I HEAR MY VOICE IN ANOTHER ROOM

on a record.

I wrote a song about you. You wrote one about me too. We sang it on stage at a place called Spaceland down in LALA Land.

We talked all night for all the nights. Learned ourselves about coins and Jazz. Then headstands and risks.

We came across a discovery: chocolate chips apart from the dough, fit perfectly together. So, we kiss. It is an antidote to separation. We do this in the middle of the night in secret. When we cannot be condemned for our actions.

I hold on to love like a fast moving rocket while you refused The Challenge. Because ‘R’ was a letter you would not rate.

But I, I alright.

Bursting into flames on any old night. Starry or not with a belly of fries. For a/the/all/my love.

Those nights I’m alone because I’ve lost it all I remind myself, I am. A self.

We cannot long for what is not ours. We cannot keep what we don’t own.

I still hear my voice on the radio. In the lyrics you drew all over my body. We whispered our secrets all over our bodies. In a rocket ship straight to the moon. Our bodies made dreams on the moon.

And now I’m thirty minutes late.